Under the Heel
by sappy3
Summary: Hermione serves Snape, now Headmaster of Hogwarts, as his personal house elf after Voldemort won the war. Second part of Hermione the House Elf Tales.


Chapter Two: The Welcoming Feast

A new Hogwarts year was about to begin, a Welcoming Feast was arrayed to bright sheen, young, cheerful faces wandered the hall to their various places and where was I, Hermione Granger, former student extra-ordinaire in all of this? Unseen by any human eye, I skulked invisible behind my master's chair at the Teachers' Table and gazed upon the throng entering the hall and milling around their tables while I sullenly waited for the feast to begin. They seemed so normal and carefree down there, as though this was just another year like any other, chatting with one another and laughing at their banal jokes as usual. The most exciting thing on their mind was the latest fetish in the world of fashion: shining silver chokers. The crowd was speckled with bands of eager onlookers who surrounded anyone who wore them. How could they be happy and content living beneath the blood-soaked heel of the Dark Lord? How could they be concerned with such useless trivialities after all that has happened? Didn't they care at all for their murdered friends, for their enslaved comrades? Unbelievable as that was, it seemed they… didn't. They had fashion to contend with. I felt hate bubbling in my guts and choked it down with a murderous effort. I couldn't lose my temper now no matter how righteous it was. If I forgot myself, I could lose my tenuous hold on the invisibility charm that hid me from their eyes and I couldn't afford that. Not only did I have my orders on this subject from my master, I just knew that if I did, there would be no end to my suffering and humiliation at their hands and that fear overcame any indignation I felt. I could imagine it all without even the slightest bit of effort.

Silence would fall on the hall. They would just stare in surprise at the sight of me at first, their mouths gaping at the spectacle I would be to them and cough up their food on their shiny new robes. They would start pointing fingers then and nudge their fellows to get their attention on this new Hogwarts-wonder put up for their enjoyment. They would stand up on their seats to get a better look and some of the older ones would probably recognize me at that moment and whisper the news excitedly to their neighbours: 'I know her. It's that know-it-all Granger girl!' 'The know it all!' 'Potter's bookworm?' 'Yeah, nobody else could have that kind of mess for hair.' 'The little suck up, look at her toadying up to Snape.' 'Fat chance she has. The man's got vinegar for blood.' 'Nah, it can't be her. She was Potter's friend. She wouldn't be here after Potter was taken down. Thick as thieves they were.' 'It is her, I'm telling you. She must have liked her sucking career more than her friend.' 'She's a Mudblood. What d'you expect?' 'Yeah, I suppose you're right.' Whatever form their reaction took, be it shock, curiosity and wonder, or disbelief filled with glee, it would be demeaning and degrading. The relative quiet would keep for a few more precious moments until some grubby first year Hufflepuff would mutter loudly to his companions: 'What is that thing?' Oh, how they would burst with laughter, chortling and choking on their drinks. A few of the more level-headed amongst them might cautiously check the high table around me for some mark of displeasure being incurred on them by their teachers but no such reprimand would be heard. How could it be when the teachers themselves would be too busy repeating that stupid Hufflepuffish remark over and over again, joining along with the general merriment, to notice anything else? Flitwick would probably jump from his elevated seat to pose precariously atop the table amidst the cups and laden dishes, to give his own rendition of the 'remark' to his clapping fellows like the midget jester of medieval tales he resembled so much. He wouldn't miss this chance at the spotlight and perform it much embellished with all sorts of low tricks and flashy charms from his oversized wand. Not he.

And what then? Perhaps Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts' new Head Boy who right this moment was sitting up at the Slytherin table showing off his Head-Badge, and looking like an overgrown puff-fish, would stand up pompously to explain to anyone curious enough to listen what a house elf is and 'what it's good for.' He would remark how his family had loads of them at their manor taking care of all the dirty menial chores for them and to demonstrate he would order me imperiously "Come here and clean my shoes, elf. They're muddy." while winking expansively at his companions. And would it be over then? The worst thing was that I wasn't sure whether my master would deem it worthy to protect me from such degradation, or judge it the apt lesson for my incompetence. Or maybe in his eyes this would be too trivial an issue to be bothered with. Would he reprimand Malfoy for his uppity ways claiming he had better uses for my services, smile at the boy as he awarded ten points to Slytherin while pushing me in his general direction or mutter a dismissive 'go on' to me before he became engrossed in important matters with his new Potions Professor like hall duty hours or class curriculum? Each seemed a possibility. It was terrible to be so unsure and there I would likely end grovelling on the floor, licking muddy shoes clean. And it wouldn't be just one pair of dirty shoes, oh no. Malfoy would surely want to show me off to his friends and underlings and what would prevent them from doing the same when they were done with me? There I would be, crawling my way through the hall accompanied by their jeering taunts, their leering gazes and the suggestive insults their little minds could come up with and I would be powerless to prevent any of it. On the contrary, being what I was now I would probably take joy and pride in fulfilling my duty at last. I would simper at their feet in gratitude and ask for more. Once upon a time I would have claimed I'd choose death rather than accept such a fate. But would I now?

No. It was useless to conjecture. None of this was going to happen for I had my orders on the subject: 'You are not to be seen,' my master told me. 'Do not dare let any human see you.' The other elves fumingly threatened me. 'We'll be watching you.' they added darkly knuckling their rolling pins and snapping their mops. They were upset for a very good reason. I wasn't there for the pleasure of it after all. I was to direct all the regular Hogwarts elves in the serving of this feast as the Headmaster's personal elf. I wished I were anywhere else. If only I could charm myself away from all of this back into the safety of my cot in the Headmaster's tower loft.

Concentrating, I silently repeated the mantra Dobby taught me: 'A good Elf is not heard unless spoken to. A gooder Elf is not seen unless called for. The goodest Elf Hermionee is going to be, not heard, not even seen, as she serves the Master his perfect tasty plate.' Repeating it several times in my head I finally calmed down enough to become aware of my surroundings once more. I still resented and despised the attitude and wording of the charm but I couldn't reject them if I wanted it fulfilled. It was a kind of Catch-22 I thought, remembering my father and the speeches he used to give on personal freedom and liberty when in his cups. What would he think of his daughter now?

Everyone had gotten to their seats already and looking around I saw Lucius Malfoy, our new Deputy Headmaster leading the First Years into the hall to be sorted into their Houses by the Sorting Hat. The elder Malfoy was looking smug and very full of himself. He was all preened up and every inch of him screamed pureblooded superiority in tones of gleaming silk and overflowing elegant lace. And why shouldn't he be? He was on the winning side in the war and now had the privilege to rip the fruits of his labours, getting this posh position at Hogwarts and having the rare opportunity to watch and participate in the zenith of his son's educational career.

Everyone quieted down to listen to the hat sing. The song that the Sorting Hat sang sounded hollow to me that night. What good would standing united be for us when we were all already defeated? Perhaps it would make them better servants to the Dark Lord I thought morosely to myself. That made sense. The hat was careful not to mention any reason why it was so imperative to stand united and the approving nod it got from my master and its own relieved flop on its stool was just the icing on the cake.

Shaking these errant thoughts from my head, I focused my eyes on the shrinking line of unsorted first years. I had no time for idle musings this evening; my important task was fast approaching. Heather Whitby was taken into Hufflepuff and Ernest Wythllew into Slytherin, to the clapping of their new housemates. At last, Mr. Malfoy banished the hat out of the hall and took his place at the table.

Tapping his wine glass with his fork, Professor Snape rose from his sit. The changes in circumstances and position were not really reflected in his appearance. His robes might have been a touch finer, his face a miniscule less pallid from what little sun he allowed into his new office and his hair may have had fewer greasy knots in it but overall it was still the same. Dressed all in black, he surveyed the hall with his glittering eyes. "A new era has begun for Britain and the world last year. For half a year, the halls of Hogwarts stood empty while you, its former and future students, wandered without guide on aimless paths the blind Fortuna cast you on. But no longer. At Hogwarts you will all be welcome. At Hogwarts you will find your destiny. A feast has been prepared for you, in celebration of this new era you begin this year. Enjoy."

This was my signal. Raising my head high, I snapped my fingers while I whispered the command and throughout the hall, plates and pitchers filled to their brims with delicious, goodly-smelling foods. It felt good. I had practiced for this moment all day and performing it without fail filled my body with a momentary thrill of joy. I knew I was merely passing a command to the other elves of course. I was just the figurehead in the invisible workings of the Hogwarts House Elf organization. But still, knowing that grumble all they would at me, they had to follow my commandments, was something to relish over even if I shouldn't. It was not appropriate and quite contrary to the proper House Elf Attitude I should have presented. I stuck out my tongue at the blurred shadows that watched me from various corners of the hall. Making sure I didn't 'blunder and shame our Master,' were they? They wouldn't catch me slacking in my duties. I would show them what it meant to be Hermione Granger. They'll own up that no elf in Hogwarts served the Master better than she or so help her, she'll choke the lot of them with their shabby old towels. No! That was the elf in her talking, not her. I was Hermione Granger, Harry's friend, forced into bondage for a man I must despise. I straightened in my post and clenching my fists, glared ahead.

The students noticed none of that. Heads lowered and mouths opened wide, they were too busy gobbling up their meal to notice anything else. I sighed in relief.

"Great speech Headmaster! How fortunate we are to have you at our head. Hogwarts could not be in better hands. What a way you have with words. Quite inspiring, wasn't it?" a squeaky voice broke into my thoughts.

I looked to my right. Our new Head of Gryffindor was smiling ingratiatingly at Snape.

"Hear! Hear! Could not have said it better myself." the squeaky voice of Flitwick joined him from my left. The rest of the staff added their support a moment or two later with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Peter, Filius." Snape replied without lifting his gaze from his plate.

"No need to thank me. It was my pleasure, Severus."

With a clatter, Snape dropped his fork. "You will not address me by my given name… Peter." He hissed, filling the name with a world of scorn.

The rotund man withered under my master's glare. "Yes Headmaster, I beg your pardon, Headmaster."

No one had much sympathy for Professor McGonagall's replacement. Peter Pettigrew was universally despised by the rest of the staff. Madam Hooch cleared her throat. "Getting back to business, Headmaster, you still haven't approved my plans for the Quidditch Hogwarts Cup this year. The clock is ticking and with the hullabaloo of last year we can't let things blow as they will. I made the expected… adjustments to satisfy our new regime but I must have you behind me in these things. You're the Headmaster and," Madam Hooch hesitated and her cheeks reddened.

"Don't get your knickers in twist, Rolanda. I have no doubt your plans are up to their usual flying standards. We'll postpone the team building until, let us say, the start of November, after the Halloween feast. That will give us plenty of time to go over all your plans and beat them within an inch of their life with my vaunted Hogwarts Seal. Will that satisfy you, Madam Hooch?"

The two shared a quick smile. "Of course, Severus. Our young players will be frozen to their broomsticks by the end of their maiden flight but who am I to complain?"

"Complain? Why, you should commend me for creating such a close relationship between your players and their broomsticks. Speaking of which, how are we supplied with broomsticks this year?"

Madam Hooch snorted rudely. "You know how it goes. Thanks to Professor Malfoy, the Slytherin team all have excellent Nimbus 2001 brooms." Mr. Malfoy smiled and nodded his acknowledgement and Madam Hooch wrinkled her nose at him. "But for the rest it's mostly the same old Shooting Stars. It's a wonder no one has died yet riding those blasted old brooms."

"I for one feel safer with the old brooms," Madam Pomfrey interjected. "Imagine how many fatal collisions there would be if everyone had fast brooms. They would fly right into each other, the spectators, the stands and everything else! I have my hands full as it is. Not a game goes by where one of the children doesn't break a leg, has a concussion or get the wambles. Good reliable Shooting Stars are the only thing standing between us and total disaster."

"Tish tosh, Poppy. Tish Tosh. Who ever heard of a dangerous good broom? It's the faulty wambling brooms that are the danger. For heavens' sake, all the modern brooms have breaking charms installed in them! Why, the Nimbus line guarantees a steady flight no matter the cross wind or the speed. What will you have us do next? Give the children coreless wands to practice their spells with?"

"I only said," Madam Pomfrey tried to defend herself. I stopped listening. Quidditch. Even now it surrounded me, despite everything that happened. Poor Harry, he would never fly his broom again or stand before us triumphant, broomstick in one sweaty fist and the Snitch in the other. Harry liked Quidditch and flying so much. It was his one untarnished joy, it was his Patronus. It was Ron's greatest love as well. I wondered what happened to their brooms. Was Harry's Firebolt decorating the fireplace of one of the Death Eaters that slew us? I shivered and turned my mind back to the conversation at the table.

Amy Galagher, our new Ancient Runes Professor was saying, "I'm with Madam Pomfrey. Even if these newfangled broomsticks are perfectly safe which I for one question, they are simply too fast. How can anyone catch a hint of the action when they whoosh from one end of the field to the other so quickly? I'd get a headache just trying to follow them. Wasn't there a boy here at this school that was made Seeker just because he had a Firebolt? And that, what do you know, every game before the whistle even finished tooting he had the Snitch in his hand and the game was over? Why, in my time we had a proper respect for the sport. We'd play for hours, days even! What's the big rush, eh?"

"You're a regular Gertie Keddle, Amy Galagher," Flitwick said.

"Harrumph!"

The others laughed.

I wiped my cheek. What a sorry bunch they were. I hated them, hated them one and all. Sympathizers and cowards and traitors, there wasn't one true hearted soul among them. Amy Galagher, the ignorant old harridan wasn't the worst of the lot by far. She was just a bored Witch who had family connections in the new order to get her this position. Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater monster with his veneer of gentlemanly manners and deviant cravings was much worse. But it wasn't him I despised the most. And there sat Peter Pettigrew, the Head of Gryffindor. If anyone deserved to be despised, it was surely him: the one who betrayed his friends to their death for greed's sake, who ruined my own friend's life with that single act and then compounded it all by reviving his Dark Lord so he could fulfil his malign designs and doom us all. And yet it wasn't him that got under my skin. Maybe his betrayal was too old for me to feel it. The crimes that fanned my loathing of him were so petty in comparison and yet I couldn't shake them off. I looked at him, unblinking. He was chuckling, his fork raised on high, so comically vain. Flitwick; how I loathed him. It all came back to that fateful night.

My memories of that first night back at the castle, only hours after Ron and Harry died and I left the desecrated remains of Grimauld Place behind me never to return again, are dreamlike, all grotesque and surreal. Did it really happen the way I recall it? Did they all act in such a manner? I care not a whit. It is how I remember it and that is enough for me.

With a crack, we appeared on the outskirts of Hogwarts. I followed him, Professor Snape and now my master, where he led, still numb and out of touch with reality after everything that's happened, shivering uncontrollably as I trudged endlessly through the freezing cold toward the distant light. He led me straight into the Staff Room by the Great Hall and ordered me to sit by the hearth and stay quiet. I didn't resist.

Turning his back on me, he summoned the teachers with urgent sparkles from his wand. Slowly they filed into the room, nervous and full of questions, and silently he ignored their questions, waiting for them all to answer his call. They eyed me curiously and tried to question my presence but I ignored them, my gaze riveted to the flames. When at last they all arrived he didn't spare a word for any niceties.

"The Headmaster is dead," he declared. "Minerva as well. And Hagrid. All of the Order of the Phoenix for that matter are dead, or as good as." He cleared his throat over the noise that broke at his stark announcement. Glaring at the lot of them he spat "Yes, Harry Potter as well." They all seemed to know what he would say next but he said it anyway. "It was the work of the Dark Lord, and his Death Eaters. Soon, they will subdue the Ministry and He will rule Britain."

Their reactions did not delay. I saw it all from my corner. Pomona Sprout, the good hearted Head of Hufflepuff collapsed crying "Those poor souls. Oh, those poor, precious souls." Madam Pince the sour librarian kneeled by her side, vainly trying to comfort her. "Don't cry. Please don't cry," she begged, her usually pinched lips trembling for once in a kindlier emotion. Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, turned pale and rigid and exchanged meaningful glances with Firenze the centaur Diviner while Professor Trelawney gave a beatific smile, triumphantly crowing "As I have seen! The inner eye does not lie." Argus Filch, the Caretaker spat and muttered "Good riddance." while Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, smiled. Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor asked nervously what will happen to Hogwarts now, and Binns, the ghostly History Professor looked bored to death.

It was Flitwick who turned to Professor Snape, just as he was about to reply to the flying coach and asked him suspiciously "How do you know all that?" Looking around him for support he repeated, his voice rising to an outraged squeak. "How do you know what happened to Albus, to Minerva and the rest? You claim You-Know-Who killed them all yet here you stand unhexed and unharmed to tell the tale of it to us. Where were you when they were slain? What were you doing as they begged for mercy? Well?" the little professor looked around. "Are you going to let him stand here amongst us and listen to his foul words without question? I for one would like him to explain a thing or two."

Madam Hooch looked between the two professors and frowned. "What are you trying to say professor?"

Professor Snape sneered back at her. "Isn't it obvious? He's trying to accuse me of being a traitor to the Headmaster."

Flitwick stood up straight and glared back at him. "And what if I am? Look us in the eye and say you aren't."

"And that would prove what exactly?" Professor Snape paused for a moment to regain his composure before taking a deep breath and continuing in a quiet tone. "I freely own that I am a member of the Dark Lord's inner circle and have been one for more years then I was a professor in this institute." At the frightened faces and half drawn wands of those around him he ploughed on forcefully. "As Headmaster Dumbledore well knew from the moment he hired me. He put his trust in me, shared his secrets with me and took me into his Order. Would you doubt his judgment now that he is gone?"

"Of course we would!" shouted the little professor, spittle flying. "He was a fool to trust you, as were we all. You must have repaid his trust and friendship with the vilest sort of treachery." His voice broke at those final words. "Don't let him stand there and smear the memory of our friends. It may be too late to save them but at least we can still take vengeance."

Professor Snape drew out his wand in a lightning swift swish and the rest of the staff took a step back looking either fearful or uncertain but he did not use it to curse them. "You doubt me yet, after all the years we served together." He whispered in a voice both quiet and deadly. At the half formed protests of some he stilled them with a glare. Tightening his grip on his wand he began intoning. "On my wand I pledge I had no hand in the murder of our Headmaster, nor in his Deputy's, nor in Hagrid's, nor Lupin's, nor Potter's, nor any other soul this night. On my wand I pledge I had no knowledge of the impending attacks on our Headmaster and of his Deputy's, and of the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. On my wand I pledge I had no way of stopping their afflictions for I was ignorant of the deed till it was done and done and done."

The white nimbus that had lit up round his tall lean figure to proclaim the truth of his words faded slowly into gloom and with it melted much of the tension that had pervaded the room. Now Madam Hooch, Mr. Filch and Professor Sprout were all gathering round Professor Snape and insisting that they at least, never doubted him while Professor Flitwick stood alone by the door looking unsure of himself. Professor Snape seized that moment to its fullest. "We have no Headmaster any longer." he told the gathering. "We are leaderless and besieged by insurmountable Darkness from all sides. We must stand united or we will crumble. I ask you all to stay with me at Hogwarts and protect its values and traditions from the corruption that might try and enter its halls in this time of uncertainty. If you do, Hogwarts could remain a bastion, to some extent at least, as it has in the past. Will you stay?"

Professor Sprout was the first to reply. "Of course I'll stay. I would never abandon the children if I can still protect them in any way, especially now when they really need us. I'm with you in this, Severus, to the end."

"I'm staying as well." Madam Pomfrey replied in clipped tones. "No matter who our Minister is going to be now, the students will always need a nurse to take care of them when they're hurt."

"I for one think I'll leave." Os Radd, the elderly Ancient Runes Professor, said firmly. "In view of the news Professor Snape brought us, it would be folly not to try and leave the country while we still can."

"Coward!" Madam Hooch cried.

"But can we stay?" Firenze asked, shuffling his hoof uncertainly in the rug. "I'd think your master would drive us off from our posts even if we tried to hold onto them. We were part of Dumbledore's herd till now. Surely he won't forget that?"

"He may be suspicious of your allegiances at first but this would not be a problem if he knew you were under the supervision of one of his loyal followers. He already expects me to assume the position of Headmastership here at Hogwarts and if I vouchsafed for your surrender to his power he would accept you into his fold."

"I knew it!" the small Charms professor shouted leveling an accusatory finger at Professor Snape. "You want to become the Headmaster. You have no right." He turned to the rest of the crowd. "You can't let him get away with this. I will not have it."

"But Filius…"

"No, Pomona. He may have sworn that he wasn't involved in actually killing them but he's still a Death Eater. He might as well have cast the Killing Curse on them himself. He probably would have if he had his chance. How can we let one of His creatures control a school? The position should go to the one who most deserves it from amongst us. For Merlin's sake, he's younger than any of us here. Since Minerva is dead as well (if we can trust his words) the Headmastership and Deputy Headmastership should be given to me and Pomona as the senior Heads of Houses. I was of course a teacher here longer than any of you so Pomona, you should take the Deputy's position and I will try and fill the Headmaster position to the best of my abilities. The time demands a calm and level-headed leader and who would be better for that than me? Our school should be guided, not by the selfish ambitions of a treacherous Slytherin but by the thirst to pass our knowledge to the next generation that I as head of Ravenclaw House represent."

Professor Snape curled his lips in disdain at this speech and looking over his head at the rest of them, asked "Who will you choose to lead you? A man who can bandy pretty words and Umbridge-ian protocol books or one who will protect you from the Dark Lord's wrath?"

"I'm with you Professor." Filch nodded to Professor Snape. "With you as Headmaster the little twerps won't be so uppity any more."

Professor Sprout followed suit and Madam Pince soon joined her. Os Radd on the other hand slowly got to his feet and said he preferred Professor Flitwick.

Madam Hooch snorted. "You've got some nerve telling us what to do while you skitter away to some hole to hide."

"That was uncalled for," Professor Wunjo said in his quiet voice. "I don't see how my plans matter in our debate. I have always held Hogwarts' interests above anything else."

"Oh, that's rich."

Nagel Kelly, the latest of the Hogwarts D.A.D.A. professors interrupted her by calling loudly that he'd choose his former Head of House over a slimy Slytherin any day of the week to the cheers of "Here, here." from Flitwick and the Ancient Runes Professor.

Madam Hooch booed the cheering trio and added her support to Professor Snape.

At that moment, whether it was by design or happenstance, Professor Binns drifted to Flitwick's group and the little wizard held up his hands triumphantly holding three fingers in one against two in the other and piped "I have more teachers than you do, Snape. Soon, we'll have you kicked for good."

Madam Pomfrey glared at that and planted herself firmly in Snape's camp. Firenze trotted up to join the group saying "I'm in enough trouble just teaching what I do, what I need is protection. If you'll have me, Professor Snape, I'm yours."

Professor Trelawney gave an undignified shriek at those words and shuffled to Flitwick's group murmuring all the while to Snape "I see great defeat in your near future. The inner eye never lies." Now Flitwick was holding four fingers against three with a cheeky grin which grew even wider when Charlotte Hazelbreath, the Muggle Studies Professor, joined his group timidly. "Just give it up Snape. You may have the support of the helping staff but it's only the teaching staff that can vote on who the next Headmaster is going to be."

Snape glared back, his teeth grinding before turning to the remaining two professors. Professor Vector was the first to move and as she wended her way through the room, first to the tea service at the corner and then to the drapes over the long windows, all eyes following her. With a sweet smile she finally joined Professor Snape's group. "How can I not support someone from my own House? It's about time we had another Headmaster from Slytherin."

Now only Professor Sinistra, the cold Astronomy teacher remained and everybody else were shouting at her to join them. The din was unbearable at that moment. I couldn't take it any longer. Covering my ears, I cowered against the wall, my head hidden behind my knees and let the tears flow as I sobbed. They had completely forgotten me after the first few moments of the meeting, too caught up in their discussion about who should be Headmaster and were now down to childish insults and slogans like "Ravenclaw lead to learning." and "Slytherin enough to win." Obviously they didn't care about me. There was no place for me here. I should have died. I deserved to die. It was comforting in a way to be considered beneath my former guardians' interest or concern. Maybe that was how I should view myself as well. There was certainly less pain in that and less guilt too. Rocking slowly I listened half heartedly to their meaningless arguments. Apparently Professor Sinistra's youth was spent in Durmstrang and so didn't have a clear House allegiance. Her views on the current political situation were even vaguer. In the end it seemed she chose Snape's side because of a personal preference of Firenze, the restrained star-gazing Centaur, over the overbearing, tea-mucking Trelawney. With the draw in teacher's votes Professor Snape proclaimed himself winner by right of his support-staff's support and the fact that Flitwick's crowd consisted of no more than a deserter, a boring ghost, a temporary has been and a drunken fraud. Sneering at the lot of them he told them that they could start packing. Only Trelawney and Flitwick seemed to have any fighting spirit left in them and Professor Hazelbreath even wished Professor Snape good luck in his future ventures.

Madam Hooch drew bottles and glasses from a side cabinet and everyone started raising toasts to their fallen friends and comrades, to Snape and to his victory, to new starts, to old times and new, to fond memories and precious times.

Professor Trelawney heaved herself into a chair by the fireplace next to me, a glass of cherry cordial in her limp hand, her chin resting on the other, and gazed at the flames. She looked despondent.

Professor Snape, now Headmaster of Hogwarts, went over to us and asked her if anything was the matter.

Professor Trelawney laughed bitterly. "Anything the matter? You've ruined me. I have no job or home now thanks to you. I suppose you're happy with yourself. Taking your revenge on poor old Trelawney. You never liked me, I know, I know. Never had any appreciation for the Inner Eye. Dark times and great injustice will fall on Hogwarts in the days to come, with you at its head; my Inner Eye clearly sees this."

Snape smiled coldly at her. "Do not be so downcast. The future is not necessarily as grim as you imagine it to be. Tales of your unmatched talents as Seer have reached the ears of the Dark Lord himself, and he had personally asked me to send you to his side so that you may spend the rest of your days in his company advising him."

This news made the former Divination Professor both elated and a little fearful but it appeared her greed was greater than her caution for when Professor Snape offered her a fancy copper key Portkey she accepted it after only a moment's hesitation. All smiles, she joined the company to tell them of the news and even offered to read everyone's tea-leaves one last time before she left in the morning for her grand new life of fame and fortune. I wasn't sure whether I should feel content to see the back of her or feel sorry for her.

Madam Pince then asked Professor Snape to tell them what happened that night and he told them he didn't know much about what had happened at the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters except that the Dark Lord and his followers captured everyone there last night without a battle after they found some way to breach the secret of its location and had tortured and killed most of them by the time he had arrived. The Dark Lord's words on Albus Dumbledore's death and his possible future intentions were discussed at length and most agreed that his death was the only possible explanation to the failing of the Fidelity Charm. It was reassuring to hear my master say he had no hand in the events that befell me. I didn't know what I would have done if I learned he was the reason, the cause of it all. I know Ron would have been certain of his guilt the moment he saw him enter Grimauld's Place but it never occurred to me till Professor Flitwick started spewing his wild accusations at him. I had wondered if he would serve his Dark Lord now or even that it was always the Dark Lord that he truly served, but the treacherous capture and slaying of my friends was too great and horrible a thing to contemplate yet. It just was. Ron didn't have a chance to say or think any such thing though. He was already dead when… Clenching my fists I retreated from that thought. I knew I was not strong enough to deal with it yet. I will think of him later when I was alone. Right now I was no one and the topic of conversation was Harry Potter's death by the Dementors' kiss. Snape took this opportunity to air his opinion that Harry, as usual, was the sole and utter cause of that day's disaster citing ridiculous reasons like laziness and glory-seeking foolery as his justifications. The man had no shame. I waited to hear him shouted down by the rest of the teachers like usual but instead all of a sudden they started noticing me instead and got completely distracted from their argument. The bastard! He must have cast a 'notice-me-not' spell over me sometime during the meeting and now revealed me to prevent them from defending Harry's honor. I wanted to tell him to stop belittling Harry's memory myself but his earlier command to stay quiet still held me mute and I could do nothing but glare at him.

"It's Miss Granger, isn't it?" Professor Vector asked. "She looks different somehow. Has someone tried to transfigure her into something? I think there's something wrong with her eyes."

"She has been transfigured." My master replied gravely. "The Dark Lord himself did it. He has reclaimed the lost art of human to house-elf transformation."

Everyone exclaimed at that and some started arguing over whether I really looked like a house elf now or not. Professor Sinistra was of the opinion that I couldn't possibly be a house elf for my height was unchanged (and not the diminutive height house elves had), my limbs, my breasts and fingers were all still as thick as before (and not the spindly affairs that true house elves possessed), my skin has retained its smooth and unpebbly texture and my hair, as anyone with eyes could see, was still the messy frizz it has always been (and as everybody knows, house elves tend to be bald or nearly so). The DADA Professor on the other hand insisted that anyone with pointy ears and big orb-like eyes like me had to have some relation to house elves even if my nose was all too human still.

Madam Pince directed her fearful yellow eyes at me and demanded "Well? What happened to you? Are you really a house elf now? Snape hardly knows anything about what happened at that secret hiding place of yours. You were there from the start weren't you? What happened there? Have you seen Albus Dumbledore die?"

I couldn't reply. Looking in panic to my master I tried to make a sound, opening and closing my mouth futilely, pleading with my eyes to be released from the damn geas of silence he had put me under.

Smiling down at me he answered in sympathetic dulcet tones instead, "I believe she's still in shock. You must not question her so harshly. She looks to have been struck dumb by the horrors she has experienced. You only have to look at those puffy red eyes to know she was crying, poor girl." Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey fell straight for his transparent ploy and began tooting sympathetically over me while shooting disapproving glares at Madam Hooch for her insensitivity and praising Professor Snape for his gentle care of me. There would be no more questions directed at me tonight and no qualms on whether I was in 'good hands' or not either. He had manipulated us all like a charm. To my utter shame, my eyes filled up with hot, burning tears. Rubbing my eyes angrily and digging myself into the wall I tried in vain to hide behind it. He had made me a hysterical little child and everyone was conspiring to prove him right. "It has been a long day for all of us and we should call it a night. We can discuss anything further tomorrow."

"I suppose you're right. Terrible times we live in. I hope things go well for the rest of you," Professor Hazelbreath said. "I'll leave by New Year." She told him.

Professor Snape nodded but didn't reply. The gathering started to break up into small groups and everyone headed to the door, talking quietly.

"A moment, Filius," my master said. "Will you stay with us as the Charms Professor? You may not be headmaster but you can still contribute your knowledge to our school and you will still be the Head of your house."

"No, I will not. You think because the rest believe in you even after they heard you're a, a Death Eater, that I'd ignore it? I for one have some scruples in me still and I will not follow a thieving traitor. Go ahead. Try and find another Charm Master that could replace me. You'll never find my match amongst your 'friends'."

Professor Snape bared his teeth in a cruel smile. "I shall, before the night is out. They are not as difficult to find as you seem to believe." At the Charms' Master indignant huff and retreating back he quickly called. "A moment, please, Filius. We should not part on such bitter words. Will you not accompany me and my elf to the Headmaster's office? I know you wanted it for yourself but still you might wish to look at it one last time before you leave, perhaps to exchange one last word with the Sorting Hat, to examine Gryffindor's over-praised sword? We'll drink some eggnog for old times' sake. It is Christmas."

"The Board of Governors will still support me over you and yes, I know its Christmas," the little professor grumbled but he still allowed Professor Snape guide him from the emptying room.

"Come now, Filius, be realistic. Leave well enough alone. What do you think of my new elf? She looks very pretty, does she not? Not at all like the regular elves." He asked as he gestured at me to follow. I did, sullenly.

"She does look that. Even prettier than she used to." He sighed. "Those big dove eyes really add something to her features I think."

"They do indeed." Her master murmured appreciatively. "And now that she is a house elf nothing would give her more joy than to please her master in any way she could. For example, let us assume I would like her to compliment my companion. She would be ecstatic to fulfill my wishes." Gesturing for me to approach he whispered seductively "Tell Filius how dashing you always thought he looked to you in your Charms lessons."

Professor Flitwick stared wide eyed at me, a little grin struggling to appear beneath his slick mustache.

I blinked and returned to the present. The dishes on the table were not as heavily laden and the floating candles were much shorter now. I looked at the object of my thoughts. He was fingering the tip of his oiled mustache, a sly look in his twinkling eyes. I narrowed my eyes and looked behind him. The two blurred shapes on either side of him stood there just like me behind my own master. I took a step towards them, and then retreated back to my post. What was I doing? Fool!

One of the blurs noticed my movements and bent to her master's ears to whisper something. The smile on Flitwick's lips widened and the twin horns of his long mustache rose in the air. He straightened in his chair and turned to us. "Headmaster, how is your house elf, Hermione? Does she serve you satisfactorily?" he asked, letting the last word roll slowly on his tongue. "When she was under my tutelage, she was such a fast learner and so very eager to please. I hope this hasn't changed?"

My master's lips thinned. "She serves me adequately, as is expected of her."

"Is that so?" the Charms professor asked. "I myself have no complaints about my own two personal house elves." He preened at the attention the rest of the table was giving him. "They are both ever so enthusiastic and, being a Charms Master, I haven't neglected their education, no no." He grinned. "Would you like to see some small bit of their manifold talents?"

"Please do!" Pettigrew piped in.

Flitwick turned in his chair and said loftily, "My dears. Please show yourselves to the good members of this table but mind, don't let the students get a glimpse of you."

Two whispered "Yes master," could be heard. The two blurs behind him shimmered for a minute and then suddenly turned into Parvati and Padma Patil. They were dressed in matching saris, one red and the other blue and both were heavily covered in make-up.

Everyone at the table started at their appearance.

"They do look nice," Mr. Malfoy allowed expansively after a moment. "My own Anthony Goldstein serves me well enough but I doubt he knows this particular trick. Will you let your two comely house elves teach it to him?"

"Of course, of course, it would be my pleasure," Flitwick allowed tightly.

"Strumpets!" Professor Gallagher called angrily and turned her head away from the spectacle. "Such filth should not be aired in polite company," I could clearly hear her mutter loudly.

Pettigrew just craned his neck and looked at them with hungry eyes saying nothing

"What about your elf, Headmaster? Can you show her to us?" Flitwick asked.

My master's eyes skittered from face to face. Mr. Malfoy arched a pale eyebrow at him. "Of course I can." He turned in my general direction. "Reveal yourself to this company. Be quick about it, now."

I stood rooted to my spot, feeling nauseous. What to do? What to do? I couldn't disobey him, but I had no idea how one could reveal herself so selectively like Parvati and Padma did. Was it a matter of space, a setting of boundaries around the Teacher's Table, or did I need to change something in the people involved? I had no clue. It was hopeless. I looked at my master. His clenched teeth and tightly fisted hands spelt disaster. I could feel his fury in my bones.

"Are you having problems controlling your elf?" Mr. Malfoy asked in mock concern.

I had to act. Crouching low to hide beneath the table level, I let go of the invisibility charm.

Flitwick looked down pityingly on me. "Your house elf is very innovative, Headmaster, even if she is a little ignorant." Some of the teachers tittered. Malfoy hid his mouth behind his napkin. "But I'm sure a house elf that belongs to Headmaster Severus Snape, a house elf that had such a promising history, will impress us with other pieces of knowledge she gleaned during her months of service to you?"

My master's cheeks colored. He stared murder at me. "Unfortunately, the affair of the school kept me too busy to look into such inconsequential details. She will soon remedy her lack, rest assured."

"Of course, Headmaster," Flitwick replied. "Perhaps my elves could see to her education while they teach their knowledge to Professor Malfoy's elf? It would be no problem."

"No, Filius. No need to bother yourself with it. As I said, I will see to it." He stared down at me. "Go to my office and wait for me there."

I wasted no time and recast the invisibility charm on myself and scampered. I could feel Parvati and Padma's eyes on my back. As I went, whispers fell on my ears from all sides. "Hermionee is a stupid elf," "Lazy, bad elf" "No good Hermionee go away," "Go away!" "Hermionee shame the master!" "We not like Hermionee."

I began to run.

I waited in the Headmaster's office for what felt like hours, cold, miserable and so very lonely. Finally the door finally opened and my master entered the darkened room.

"Show yourself," he demanded coldly as he lit the room and started a fire. I did. He looked at me for a moment, then seated himself at his desk. "Are you close to any of the house elves in the castle?" he asked me.

I blinked at him. "I talk to Dobby, sometimes."

"Dobby. Who's that?"

"He… he was one the Malfoys' house-elves but Harry freed him in our second year. He's been working, for a wage," I added quickly, "here at Hogwarts ever since."

My master drummed his fingers on the table. "So. A free elf, you say. One of Malfoy's." He sat there silent for some moments, eyes half shuttered. Then he nodded to himself. "Very well, summon him here. No, never mind," he added quickly when he saw me heading for the door. He picked the elf bell from his table and rang it.

With a pop, Mop, the elderly head elf appeared. "The Headmaster requires something?" he asked, bowing.

"Yes. Bring me the house elf Dobby."

"Dobby?" Mop asked, his ears quivering.

"Yes, him."

"Dobby is a bad elf." Mop told my master. "A rebellious elf!"

"I'm sure he is. Now bring him quick."

"Yes Headmaster." Mop vanished to be replaced a moment later with a wild eyed Dobby.

"Headmaster wishes to see Dobby?" he asked fearfully.

"Dobby, I understand you're a free elf."

"Yes Headmaster. Harry Potter freed Dobby from bad master Lucius Malfoy."

"And you transferred your loyalties to Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter was a great wizard! He looked after the elves." Dobby declared staunchly.

"But Harry Potter is dead now."

Dobby started crying. "Dobby knows," he replied, not bothering to wipe the tears streaking down his cheeks.

"Free elves have no place in Hogwarts now. Dumbledore is dead and the Dark Lord's wishes are law."

Dobby lowered his head. "Dobby understands. Dobby will leave Hogwarts and seek his fortune elsewhere."

"That won't be necessary, Dobby." My master told him softly.

"Headmaster? Dobby is not understanding."

"Harry Potter is dead, but you may still serve him in some measure. His friend Hermione is still alive and needs assistance. Harry Potter would have been glad if he knew there was someone who could help her."

"Yes Headmaster. Dobby hears what happens at Welcoming Feast."

"Would you teach her the house elf magic for me?"

"Headmaster say Hogawarts cannot have free elves." Dobby said.

"That's true. You will need to give up your clothes if you want to help Harry Potter's friend."

"You want Dobby to be a real Hogwarts elf?"

"No. I want you to be my own, personal elf."

Dobby looked at me and smiled, his eyes shining. He knelt down on the floor and started wrenching off all his many socks. Hus eyes lifted to my master. "Dobby will be honored to be Headmaster Severus Snape's elf." He jumped to his feet and flung the Hogwarts towel surrounding his waist, the last bit of clothing he still had on, to the floor. "Dobby wishes to serve Headmaster Severus Snape as his elf," he told my master formally.

My master took out his handkerchief, expanded it a bit with his magic and gave it to Dobby. "I accept your pledge of service. Take this handkerchief and wear it always as a symbol of your allegiance."

Dobby tied it around himself like a toga and kissed the hand that gave it to him.

I couldn't contain myself any longer. I ran to him and hugged him to me with all my might. We were both crying. I couldn't tell whether they were tears of joy or grief.

"Hermione," my master called to me and I disentangled myself from Dobby and turned to look at my, our master. "You will dedicate yourself to studying your elfish magic. You will gain mastery of no less than one new spell every week, more, if at all possible. Understand, this does not abrogate any of your usual duties. You will do both and do them well. Also, I want you to learn how to Apparate by the end of the month. Your scurrying around on foot wastes valuable time. And don't you dare humiliate me again like you did tonight.

"These are your orders, Hermione, see to them."

Author's Notes - Gertie Keddle is taken from "Quidditch Through the Ages"

Os Radd's name is comprised from the Old English names of the Ancient Runes Ansuz and Raido or A and R

Charlotte Hazelbreath's name is a nod to the character Charlotte Hazel, Lolita's mother in Nabokov's book of the same name.


End file.
